


Waiting in the Wings

by ToriCeratops



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Undercover, Undercover As Prostitute, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22761448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: There's a killer targeting high end male escort workers.  Her pattern is the same every time, but they can't find any hard evidence that will link Catherine Marcus to the crimes.Malcolm decides he needs to go in under cover, get in close, become one of her victims to get what they need to put her away.Only, there's a slight problem with that plan that he doesn't tell Gil about until the last second.  Lucky for him, Gil is always willing to help him out.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 117
Collections: Prodigal Son Kink Meme





	Waiting in the Wings

**Author's Note:**

> For my Goblins....
> 
> [And a prompt on the kink meme.](https://prodigal-kink.dreamwidth.org/447.html?thread=47551#cmt47551)  
> 

“Gil, I really have no idea what I’m doing,” Malcolm said as he watched the older man’s hands, and how they smoothed out his shirt and fiddled with Malcolm’s buttons. 

“Come on now, kid. I know you had wild college days,” Gil said with a smile then attached the mic around one button. He started working on the camera next and Malcolm still couldn’t take his eyes off the older man’s long fingers. 

Yes, Malcolm had a wild sex life in college. But he had a type. And his type had a dick. And was older, much older.

Usually tanned.

Dark hair.

He’d loved a good goatee. 

Just thinking about all his substitute encounters has his pulse racing.

“You’re not wrong,” he admits. “But uh, I’ve never slept with a woman.”

Gil’s fingers fumbled with the camera and he dropped it on the ground. Before the older man could move though, Malcolm sank easily to his knees in one fluid motion. He got the small button camera in his grasp quickly then looked up at Gil from beneath his lashes before standing. Gil’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his lips parted and his chest heaved. 

Malcolm stood much slower than he had gotten down, unconsciously standing closer to Gil as he did so.

“I…” Gil cleared his throat. “I can’t imagine it’s _that_ much different. At least in terms of how to kiss, how to tease...”

For a minute Malcolm thought of just shrugging him off, not making a big deal of it. He’s about to go undercover as a professional escort. He _should_ know how to please his potentially serial killer client but maybe he can just make it up as he goes.

Then he noted the sway in Gil’s stance, the way he hadn’t pulled away from where Malcolm put the camera back in his hands.

“It’s not… _exactly_ the same since, well,” Malcolm looked down at the ground then glanced up from beneath his lashes. “I tend to be kind of, submissive.”

Gil scoffed at him. “You? Submissive?”

“Okay, so I’m a bossy submissive but my specialty,” he leaned in closer, inappropriately close. “Is getting older men riled up enough they want to fuck me. Not seducing women with a tender touch.”

Gil seemed to lose his ability to speak. He clamped down on Malcolm’s arm, his face closer than ever. When Malcolm looked up again he saw the older man’s pupils were blown wide. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “You need to be walked through this, kid?” 

“Please.” Malcolm should have been ashamed of how much that one word gave him away, how much it sounded like begging. But he wasn’t. How could he be, when he was closer in that moment to everything he’s ever wanted since he hit puberty. 

But Gil stepped back, dropping his gaze, though the heat never left his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

* * *

That was five hours ago.

Catherine Marcus is at his side now, walking down the street hand in hand as if they are truly new lovers. 

In the hotel they’re headed to Malcolm already has a room booked and the key in his back pocket. There’s a mic and a camera on the buttons of his ridiculously tight shirt, a device in his ear so he can hear Gil, a camera set up in the room so that once his clothes come off Gil can still keep an eye on things, and Gil, in the adjoining room monitoring everything he’s done since he stepped out. 

Catherine Marcus is their prime suspect in the murder of half a dozen male escorts. She changes her name every time, has more identities than they’ve been able to track down, but Malcolm is positive it’s her. The problem is, she strings her victims along. She hires them and lavishes them in attention for almost a month before she gets _extra_ obsessive. When they try and back off, she kills them.

Every time.

All of their evidence is circumstantial. They can’t positively link anything to her except Malcolm’s profile.

So here he is, about to sleep with a woman for the first time in his life.

Anything for a case.

Gil has been speaking in his ear off and on throughout the night. Not too much, not often. Regardless of what he’s actually into himself, Malcolm knows how to charm people, knows how to make them smile, get under their skin. It helps that he hadn’t needed to get a read on her first, already having done extensive work to complete his profile. He’s able to say just the right things, compliment her in just the right ways right off the bat that she’s blushing within the first ten minutes of their date.

Now, they’re in the elevator. It’s empty except for them and Gil’s clear voice fills his head.

“Bright. I’m taking over now.” He doesn’t even ask for acknowledgement or understanding before barrelling on, voice firm and sure that he’ll be obeyed. “You need to start soft, get in closer, slowly drag her hair off to one side and kiss her neck.”

Malcolm does as he’s told, shifting so he’s behind Catherine, letting his arm go further around her waist. He pulls the long, loose black curls from her bare shoulder, letting his fingertips drag over her smooth, pale skin. She tilts her head to the side and gives him access with a soft sigh. Instead of starting with her neck though, he kisses her shoulder, right at the curve, then inch by inch moves along towards her neck, teasing the clasp of her halter top with his fingers but not releasing it yet before he presses his lips to her pulse point. When she shivers he lightens his touch, instead of kissing he just drags his lips up and down her neck, making her moan and drop her head even further. 

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He guides her out with a hand at the lowest point of her back, fingers dipping just below to the curve of her ass. They don’t say anything, simply walking with quick and determined strides towards the room. 

“When you get in the door, press her back against it. Play with your strength, see if she responds to a little roughness or if she wants soft.”

Catherine giggles when he does just that, pinning her with one leg between her thighs. Her red dress is so short that it rides up instantly as he goes in for a deep kiss. It’s softer than he’s used to, she’s softer. With curves where he’s used to hard lines, soft skin where he’s used to calluses and muscles. But she reacts to him, with deep noises in the back of her throat expressing her enthusiasm. He wants her to think he’s turned on by this, that she is everything he wants.

So he thinks of Gil, of his hands, of the way he had looked at him just hours before in the room right on the other side of the wall.

He thinks of how he’s _in that room right now_ watching this. Watching what he’s about to do.

How he’s a part of it.

He cock finally begins to stir, heat curling low in his belly. Catherine rocks her hips up to meet him with a purr and smirk of her own.

As they move from the door to the bed, Gil speaks up again. “Take your time undressing her. Wherever your fingers touch, your lips should follow.” His voice is still clear and smooth. Malcolm knows if he had to say anything right now he’d barely be able to manage a coherent sentence.

His shirt and pants are left on the floor before he starts to work on her clasps, letting her step out of the thin red fabric. It was literally the only thing she was wearing and now she lays back on the bed, naked and arched, waiting for him. 

“You’re still trying to rile her up like you do for a good top,” Gil reminds him, “but you want her begging for it, not the other way around.”

Malcolm almost nods, making sure to toss his own underwear before joining her on the mattress. There is a small basket on the nightstand he’d put there earlier with lube and oils and condoms but for now, he focuses on her, on her skin, on learning her body like an experienced lover should. 

When she grabs his half hard cock he groans and rocks into the touch, filling even more. But her touch is too gentle, her hands too soft. 

“Stroke her breasts, tease the nipples.” Gil is nearly purring in his ear and _that_ lights a fire in his body. He twitches in her hand and kisses her again, covering her body with his own. “Lightly at first, to learn what she likes, what she wants.”

Malcolm does as he’s told, letting his hands wander up from her hips, cupping her breast in one hand and letting his thumb brush the dark skin of her nipple. She gasps, a light, soft sound, into his mouth where he’s still kissing her. She writhes beneath him with every touch, with every curl of his thumb as he brings both to stiff peaks. When he trails his mouth down the length of her neck, over the curve of her breast, then takes one in his lips her gasps become deeper, groans of pleasure. There’s a hand in his hair, fingers curled and holding on but not demanding, not tight enough. 

“Your hands should be exploring everywhere, but don’t touch her pussy. Make her think that’s where you’re going but she has to earn it first.”

Like this, with his attention focused on Catherine below him, the rest of the world unfocused except for the sharp, demanding tone of Gil in his ear, Malcolm can almost pretend he’s right behind him. That instead of the emptiness he feels, Gil is with him, waiting his turn to touch, close enough that the voice in his ear isn’t in his head, but accompanied with hot, wet, desperate breath against his skin.

He strokes her thighs, parts her legs and lets his fingers dance over her mound, gliding against the slickness of her lips. While he teases her he moves back to kiss her mouth then down her chin again, along her neck. He begins to work a mark just behind her ear while his fingers tease.

Catherine cries out, and Gil chuckles in his ear.

“ _Good boy_ .” Gil’s response is immediate, almost a whisper, _pleased._

Malcolm groans and the slide of his cock against her pale, smooth thigh becomes slick with precome.

“Now slip just one finger between her lips, exploring, learn what she feels like.” Malcolm does just that, exploring the soft skin, mapping out every fold. “Find her clit, and circle it. But be gentle.”

She goes silent when he finds the hard nub of flesh, holding her breath. It takes him a moment to discover what she responds best to but when she finally exhales in a sharp cry, her whole body shaking, he knows he’s found it. 

“Press a single finger just inside, more teasing.” Malcolm kisses down her body while he obeys, desperate to keep hearing Gil’s voice, to submit to him. “You have to build her up bit by bit, kid.”

The _kid_ sends a shiver of want down Malcolm’s own spine and he has to pause, rest his brow against the jut of Catherine’s pale hips to catch his breath. 

“Just like you did with your hands, put your mouth everywhere but where she wants it.”

In his mind, Gil is right there, watching just a few inches away instead of from the other side of the wall, though the cameras. He imagines that he has to prove himself, that he will earn even more praise and acknowledgement if he does exactly as he’s told, in just the right way. So he does, moving his mouth in slow, teasing movements, finding her most sensitive areas that have her crying out, begging for more.

“Two fingers,” Gil says, voice cracking, “really start to fuck her like that.” 

Malcolm curls them inside her, finding himself desperate to please Gil, to make her come so Gil will know he did it for him. 

“I know those filthy lips of yours know what to do with a cock,” Gil’s voice is coarse, breathy, “probably love it. Find her clit with your tongue…” Malcolm leans in and does, circling just like he would the head of a cock just… smaller. “Just like that. Perfect. Listen to her body, respond to her needs, to her cries. Follow her lead.” 

Malcolm leans into it, kneeling between her legs and listening to her cries of pleasure, responding to the pressure she tugs his hair with, changing things, keeping her on the edge.

“Fuck, spread your legs a little further.”

Malcolm _knows_ that’s not for Catherine. That’s for Gil, and his cock _aches_ at the knowledge that Gil is enjoying this. He imagines what he looks like, if he’s started stroking himself or if he’s just sitting there, hard and desperate for release. Malcolm does what he’s told, shifting a little further out, letting his hips roll so he’s presenting all of himself to the camera he knows is aimed directly at his ass. 

“So good for me.”

“I need you.” Malcolm almost whines. No, he does whine. There’s no denying that. The only reason he’s getting through this, getting away with it, is that voice in his head that he’s dreamed of for so long. That he aches for.

The mics in the room must be more sensitive than he’d thought, because Gil groans in his ear, deep and needy. “I know. _Fuck_ , kid I need you too. Touch yourself. Think of me.”

Malcolm’s movements become sloppier, more desperate against the slick flesh of the body beneath him. His tongue presses harder when he takes himself in hand, begins to stroke. Cathering starts to curse, over and over. But all Malcolm can focus on is how he wants Gil to want more, to want to open him up and take him apart. 

With a loud, drawn out shout, Catherine comes. Her legs shake around Malcolm’s head and he starts to pull away, but Gil’s voice is sharp and demanding in his ear.

“Fuck, don’t let up. Ride it out.”

The only reason he doesn’t come right then and there is because there’s not quite enough physical stimulation. But the command takes him so close he almost aches with it. 

Once she’s stopped writhing on the bed and tugs at Malcolm’s hair to bring him up her body he reaches in the basket for a condom and quickly rolls it on. 

“Grab one of her legs and spread her wide.” He hooks one of her legs over his elbow and distracts her with a kiss while he sinks into the heat of her body. “There you go. You’re doing so good, Malcolm.”

She’s so soft, so different from what he’s used to. Malcolm drops his head against her shoulder as he starts to fuck her, filling his mind with images of men, remembering what it feels like to choke on a long, thick cock. 

“Keep eye contact,” Gil warns. “Make her see how much you’re loving this.”

He doesn’t want to. He can’t. It will be too much, too real. 

_“Malcolm_.” 

There’s no way he can disobey that tone, that demand from Gil. The sharp cut of his name has him jerking his head up and immediately doing a he’s told, unable to stop himself and all the more turned on for it. 

With Gil, he can do this. Because Gil has told him he has to.

“She’s close. Shift a little, make a little space and get a hand between you. Yes, just like that. Put your thumb on her clit and give her quick, firm circles while you fuck into her harder.”

He can count the seconds he has to move like this, finds the ways to flick and to roll his hips to make her cry out more, louder. Malcolm wants her to enjoy herself, needs her to crave his touch so she’ll come back. But he can’t draw this out, can’t make it last any longer than it must. 

With a flick of his thumb pressed hard against her clit, Catherine cries out again, shaking beneath him and drenching his cock in wet slickness. 

It feels good - amazing even - the tightness and the heat around his cock. But it’s not enough. He’s missing something, missing the fullness he’s always craving, the firm hands holding him tight, the hard body controlling his actions, controlling him and his release.

“God, you’re so good for me.”

Malcolm almost comes, he aches to come. He balances on edge but just can’t quite find what he needs to push himself over. So he stills, and groans a long, satisfied sound like he’s found his release then collapses against Catherine, careful not to put his full weight on her.

She hums and rakes her nails in soft scratches against her back. “That was _so good,”_ she purrs before patting him on the shoulder which he takes as a sign to roll away. Malcolm props up on his elbow with his hips pressed against the mattress to hide how hard he still is, that he hasn't’ gotten off because he wasn’t being fucked. 

Becuase Gil wasn’t fucking him.

“Don’t just leave her hanging, go back to kisses and strokes on her skin. Let her know you’re not done with her just because you’ve come. That’s the important part.”

He does for a minute, but she’s the one who rolls out of bed the second she’s caught her breath. She dresses quickly while Malcolm quietly tosses the empty condom into the bin beside the bed then she grabs her hand bag. When she sets a thick envelope on the desk she looks over her shoulder with a sultry wink. 

“I’ll call you in a few days.” Then she saunters out. Vaguely he thinks about how if she holds to her pattern, he’ll hear from her again in three. 

Gil is through the adjoining doors before the other one has latched completely. 

With a smirk and a stroke to his cock, Malcolm lays out on the bed, legs wide, staring Gil down.

Silently pleading to be fucked.

To his delight, Gil sheds his clothes in a hurry, popping a few buttons along the way and is on Malcolm a moment later, kissing him deeply.

Here are the hard lines he craves, the smooth but taught muscles, the demanding nature of being dominated, controlled. He can ask, can beg, but he knows he won’t be given anything unless it’s exactly what Gil wants to do to him too.

Malcolm sinks into the touch, melts under his hands, at his filthy kiss. The rasp of his facial hair is like lightning and Malcolm groans as he gets his hands on every inch of Gil like he’s always wanted, reaching down to cup his balls, to stroke his cock. His hips arch up off of the mattress when he feels the impressive length, hard and thick and leaking copiously into his hand. 

At some point while Malcolm is distracted by the kiss and the expanse of Gil’s body before him, the older man had slicked up his fingers. He doesn’t waste time with any teasing, he’d done enough of that with just his voice. Malcolm cries out when two fingers are pressed in past his rim, sliding in and stretching him with the perfect amount of burn. Gil makes his body sing, riles him up and does exactly what he’d told Malcolm to do to Catherine.

Gil makes Malcolm beg for it. 

He begs with his hands, with his mouth. He begs with a firm grip in Gil’s hair and yanking him back in for more kisses. Malcolm rocks his hips down to meet each thrust of Gil’s fingers, tilts his neck out to allow him access when Gil moves from his lips to his jaw, cries out when he bites his ear lobe then works a mark into the tender skin just below his ear. 

Gil reaches for the basket again but Malcolm stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“No condom,” he breathes out, chest heaving. “Please. I want to feel all of you, I want you to fuck me, to come in me. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Gil goes still for a moment, eyes closed tight. Then he drops his head against Malcolm’s shoulder, trembling. “Jesus _Christ,_ kid.” 

“I’m… I'm ready Gil. I need you. And I’m so close.”

After several long, drawn out moments, Gil finally nods. He moves to slick his cock and Malcolm’s mind almost blanks out when he feels the blunt head against his entrance, tries to push against it. But Gil gets a firm hand on his hips and stills him, making another pulse of pleasure swim through Malcolm’s veins. His cock leaks against his stomach at the strength holding him down, spreading him open. 

“I’m not going to last either,” Gil groans as he finally slips inside, and Malcolm can’t breathe. “Is this what you meant earlier?” Gil pants against Malcolm’s lips, teasing him without kissing him, giving him what he wants while holding back on everything Malcolm needs. “About riling older men up until they just couldn’t help it. Until they needed to fuck you properly.”

“Yes. Fuck, _Gil_!” Gil bottoms out and they both fall silent for a moment, only the heavy sounds of their attempts to breathe filling the room. Then he moves, shifts, curls his arms around Malcolm’s legs and pushes his knees back up against his chest and holds him wide open. 

“Come whenever you want, baby.” Gil pulls back then slams in again without warning, making Malcolm have to use all of his willpower not to drop his head back and just hang on for the ride. “But next time, next time I’m going to take you apart and you’re not allowed to do anything until I say, do you understand?”

“God, yes.”

It’s the last thing either of them manages to say as Gil begins to fuck him in earnest. He’s relentless, with quick, punishing snaps of his hips and pounding right into that sweet spot that makes Malcolm see stars. Malcolm doesn’t know how long he lasts, doesn’t really notice more of anything than the way Gil makes him feel, the way he plays his body like he’s an expert, like he’s been doing it for years. He holds onto Gil for dear life, his fingers digging into flesh. 

Malcolm comes with a strangled cry, so on edge for so long he hadn’t even seen it coming. White hot streaks splash on his belly and chest. He feels it through his entire body, in his fingers and down to his toes. As he shakes through every pulse of his orgasm he wraps his arms behind Gil’s neck and pulls him in close, whining his name against kiss swollen lips in barely more than a whisper.

It’s enough to send Gil over, slamming into him one last time as he captures Malcolm’s lips in another deep kiss. Malcolm drowns in it, in the way Gil shakes and empties himself deep within his body. 

They kiss for a long time, bodies entwined and unwilling to let go. With every inch of him relaxed, the pleasant buzz of release still tingling through his skin, Malcolm hums and floats in a haze of bliss.

“It’s always been you.” 

In Malcolm’s arms, Gil freezes. But before Malcolm can properly panic for what he let slip he’s being kissed again. The fire and passion of want and desire is replaced with a tenderness that makes his eyes water and chest clench tighter than any of Gil’s words had managed before.

It’s all more than he’d ever thought possible.

“I’m not,” Gil presses his nose against Malcolm’s hair line and kisses his neck, breathing deeply. “I shouldn’t admit how long I’ve wanted you.” 

There’s so much behind those words, behind what both of them are saying. And it’s too much, too much for a cold hotel room, too much for the after glow of a desperate, filthy fuck. 

“You um,” Malcolm has to clear his throat. “You said something about a next time?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “Can ‘next time’ be now? Or at least, well…”

“You do have the room for the entire night,” Gil reminds him with a kiss to his shoulder.

They do, and for now, it’s enough.


End file.
